


on the proper care and upkeep of hearts

by weatheredlaw



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blasphemy, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pining, Platonic Sex, Safewords, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Spanking, Vaginal Fisting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-01 11:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5204756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra seeks out Bull for a mutually beneficial relationship, and Varric figures out why you shouldn't write books for other people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a modest proposal

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, so. I hope this. Goes okay. Stick with me, all the ships will happen, and all the tags will come true.
> 
> Like little wishes. And dreams.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra allows herself to ask for what she wants, and to great reward.

Cassandra’s nerves are _burning._

Killing a dragon, she suspects, will do that to you.

Watching The Iron Bull slay one alongside you…

That is something entirely different.

He watches her watching, his chest blood-spattered and heaving. She must not look much worse, or better. And then he smiles, and it is not disarming, like she thought it might be.

Cassandra’ nerves are _burning_ –

But she smiles back.

 

* * *

 

“I would like to ask you a question.”

Bull shifts in his little spot in the sun, a book over his face. She can hear the grin in his voice. “What’s on your mind, Seeker?”

“I would like to ask you a question somewhere more…private.”

This gets a reaction. He sits up, and the book slides down into his lap. “Alright.” He leads her across the keep and to his quarters. Cassandra keeps her head up, follows closely behind him. She had started out unsure, but now she has no qualms about her decision. Bull closes the door and leans against it. “Do I already know what this is about?”

“Perhaps.” She folds her arms over her chest, looking at her boots.

“No.” He reaches out, putting a hand under her chin, forcing her gaze back up at him. It’s strangely intimate, which surprises her. “If you want to do this, Seeker, you’re going to have to be honest with me.”

“Alright.”

“What do you want, Cassandra?”

His fingers under her chin _burn_ , but she isn’t afraid. Her arms fall down and her fists clench at her sides.

“I would like to have sex with you. But I am not interested in anything…romantic.”

“No? Little out of character for you.”

“I am fully capable of having a platonic, agreeable—”

“Seeker.” His hand drops from her chin, and he chuckles. “I’m joking. I know you can handle it. Probably better than most.” He pauses. “You’re sure, though?”

“Yes.”

Bull nods. “Alright. Is now a good time?”

Cassandra _balks._ “ _What?_ I do not—”

“If it’s not, that’s fine.”

“It’s the _middle_ of the day!”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’d prefer we begin our mutually beneficial arrangement at a more…romantic time? Say, the dead of night? I could like some candles, we could—”

“ _Ugh._ You are incorrigible.”

But the suggestion…the idea of spending an afternoon in bed with someone, rather than training or sorting through her letters, or traveling to the Hinterlands, _again_ – it is nothing less than tantalizing.

“You’re thinking about,” he says.

“I am _considering_ it.”

Bull shrugs. “Only if you want to.”

Cassandra bites her lip, and imagines what it might feel like.

Her own imagination makes her shiver.

“I saw that,” the Qunari says quietly.

“I know.”

“Would you like to, Seeker?”

She looks up at him, no help this time.

“Yes,” she says. “I would.”

 

* * *

 

It starts slow. They undress themselves, and Bull relaxes on the bed, arms behind his head.

“Must you watch?”

“I’m appreciating. You have an excellent form, Seeker.” Her cheeks flush. “Don’t be ashamed of it.”

“I am not.” And it’s true. She’s worked hard to sculpt her body into something like this. But she uses her body as a weapon, which she suspects he can understand. It was never meant to be admired, not in that way. Galyan used to – no. No, not that.

“Hey.” Bull sits up and he’s close enough to her that he can reach out as she fumbles with her trousers. “If you’re going to be far away for this—”

“I won’t be. I will be present.”

“Good.” He nods and pulls her into his arms.

He _hugs_ her.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

But Cassandra’s hands are trembling, now. He looks at her, and she nods, allowing him to undress her the rest of the way.

“N-next time,” she says. “Next time, I will not be so nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?” She looks right at him. “How long has it been, Seeker?”

“I will not tell you. You will only tease.”

“Aw, come on.” He does it again, puts his fingers under her chin. It makes her smile. “You can tell The Bull.”

Cassandra sighs. “I…had a lover. He died at the Conclave.”

“That’s a terrible thing.”

“Yes,” she murmurs. “It is. But I had not been with him for over a year. We were not…not very physical. I cared deeply for him. He was the only man with whom I have…I—”

“I understand.”

She nods. “I thought you might.”

“Is that why you wanted this?”

Cassandra feels her legs tremble, cold now, in the air of his room. She realizes she is naked.

“Hey, come here. Come to bed.” She lets him pull her into his arms and Cassandra relaxes against his chest. “Is that why you wanted this?” he repeats.

“In part.”

“And what’s the other part?”

She looks up at him. “You are very handsome, for a Qunari.” He laughs at that. “And I know if I ask you to, you will give me the things that I want. And you will not burden me with…with love.”

“Ah, is love such a burden to you, then?”

Cassandra sits up a bit straighter, but still finds herself in his arms. It’s not an unwelcome feeling. “Love must be worked for. It should be earned. Physical love the same way, in my opinion.” Cassandra shifts against him, and feels his erection pressed against her back. “We have forgotten ourselves, just a bit.”

“Oh, I haven’t. Believe me.”

She swats at his arm, and allows him to roll her over.

She even allows herself to laugh.

 

* * *

 

It feels, at first, like too much.

She has no qualms with his methodology, or his preferences. He has her practice the word – _katoh_ – and then they proceed. He is, despite her impressions of him, and how he presents himself, very gentle with her. Because Cassandra is strong, she will always believe that of herself – but to _be_ with someone…it requires a strength that she has not practiced in so long.

And so, at first, it feels like it is all too much.

“Are you alright?”

It’s only the press of his finger inside her, stroking her carefully, preparing her. She nods, hands on his arms, moving of their own volition.

“Are you objectifying me?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I like it. Another, then.” Cassandra feels her legs tighten as his second finger slides against the first, and he stops. “Relax.” A kiss, pressed to her belly. She looks at him. “No?”

“I…no. I mean. Yes. Yes, it’s fine. It was…just surprising.”

“Too romantic?”

“Stop _teasing_.”

“But I’m so _good_ at it,” he says, grinning, and Cassandra laughs again, her head falling back against the pillow. His fingers stretch her with ease.

“There,” he murmurs. “Much better.”

“ _Oh._ ” Cassandra feels her legs push further apart, his mouth on her thigh.

“One more,” he says.

“Yes. Yes, another—”

He hums, leaning forward and pressing a third finger inside with the other, just as his teeth graze her clit.

“ _Ah!_ ” Cassandra feels her body arch, just a bit, but he doesn’t check this time, or stop, and now his tongue is teasing her, slowly drawing her out. She gasps, nails scratching down his arms, but she doesn’t think he would appreciate an apology. Instead, she pushes down, aching for more, feeling the steady thrust of his fingers inside her. She moans, pleads for more, and he fucks her in earnest, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. And she thinks that it will be a _relief_ , to finally have another person’s hands be the reasons she comes –

And he gives it to her.

Cassandra nearly chokes on the feeling. It overwhelms her, the touch of another, her body shaking and falling apart under his hands. She sobs, begs for something she doesn’t quite understand, and feels him pull away.

“You’re good, Seeker.”

“I _can’t,_  it’s so—”

“It’s different, when it’s someone else, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she manages, and finds herself in his arms again. “Though…though there was hardly any need for a _word_.”

“There could be, later.” He looks at her. “I can push you, Seeker. If you want to go there, that’s what I can do.”

“You would not be my friend if you did not.”

Bull fingers the braid that’s come undone from her head. “The day isn’t over.”

“You’re right,” she says. “I suppose there’s still much to be done.”

“And we’re not in a bad spot to do it.”

Cassandra looks between them, at his cock pressed against her thigh. She smiles, and she is going to raise up, and take him as far as she can, but he stops her.

“Well, it’s _almost_ perfect.” With a twist, he lifts her, turning her so that her back is pressed to his chest. She feels his cock brush her entrance – and she whimpers. “Good,” he murmurs. “That’s good.”

He raises her, his hands so large on her hips, completely in control – and he lifts her over and onto his cock, and brings her down.

If his fingers were too much, his cock certainly _is._ Cassandra is full, full, _full_ and all she can do is _feel_ it, feel the way he presses into her, the quick, heady pace he sets. And she can’t make a sound. The sensation robs her of her voice, and her mouth hangs open, slack as he fucks her, as he _takes_.

And then – _and then_ –

She screams.

The noise breaks over her, and she feels heat, _hot_ and growing pleasure, ebb through her, and suddenly _grab._ It grabs at her muscles, which clench around him. Bull groans in her ear, teeth grazing her shoulder. She is going to bruise, possibly everywhere, and the idea of it makes her _wetter_ , if that is even possible.

“Fuck, Seeker, _fuck_ —”

“M-my—”

“What?” he says. “Tell me. Tell me, it’s alright.”

“My _name_ ,” she says, and it’s a shout. She sobs, suddenly pushed down, face-first into the bed. She gets onto her elbows as he pounds her from behind, and she hears it.

“Good, Cassandra. That’s real good.”

“ _Fuck_ —”

She doesn’t swear often, not like that – but she finds that it’s all she can say, all she can _think._

“Yeah, that’s good. You’re being so good. You’re doing a good job, Cassandra, you are.” And the praise, the sweet praise that comes from his mouth, it endears her, and she is so blessed, so grateful that he understands, that he _knows_ what she needs, and isn’t going to try to take more than she wants to give.

How long as it been, since she’s been this lucky?

Or has she ever, at all?

Oh, she had it, with Galyan, for a moment. She was so lucky to have him, and he told her he was lucky to have her as well. And Cassandra _believed_ it.

But she doesn’t need Bull to feel lucky. And he knows that, too. He knows this is good for her, that her body is perfectly prepared for this. He knows that she is going to be able to take it again.

“Let me feel you come. You can touch yourself,” he says, though Cassandra hadn’t realized she’d been waiting for him to say it. “You can, it’s alright. Let go, come on.”

Cassandra cries out the moment her fingers touch her clit, and it only takes a few circles to climax, to come and clench around him, even as he still fucks her.

“I’m gonna come, Cassandra.” He’s so calm, so _cordial_ about it, as if he is only stepping out for a moment, but he’ll be back soon. She nods, but he doesn’t need her to say it’s alright.

He comes, pressed against her ass, filling her. She trembles, and expects almost to have a mass of Qunari suffocating her.

But, instead –

He pulls out, and pulls her back into his lap again, stroking her shoulders. She doesn’t mind the kisses he presses against her neck. His mouth is cool on her skin.

“Very good,” he murmurs.

“You…you said that,” Cassandra manages, and Bull chuckles.

“I meant it every time. I always mean what I say.” He pauses. “In bed, at least.”

“That is good to know.”

“You’re tired.”

“I am. But…the day—”

“Will go on whether you sleep here or go back to your pathetic little bedroll.”

“You do not _know_ about—”

“I know where everyone sleeps.” He urges her against the pillows, pulling the blanket over her. “I know Cullen’s got a hole in his roof, and Josephine brought a quilt with her.” He stretches out in the place next to her, and Cassandra is comforted by his presence. “I know that Leliana _does_ sleep, and better than you. Dorian’s got a room by the library, and Solas as a little bed in his weird little octagon.” He pauses. “Blackwall sleeps in the hay, so you’ve got one on him.”

“A glutton for punishment,” Cassandra murmurs.

“Yeah. Sera’s got good digs. Vivienne would cry if she knew where you were sleeping. Think of your _posture_ , darling.” Cassandra laughs, and Bull puts a hand on her arm. “Cole…maybe doesn’t sleep. I know he lives above the tavern. He might sleep in the chandelier. I’ve certainly seen him up there.”

“I did wonder.”

Bull hums. “And you know Varric wouldn't surrender luxury to save the damn world for a second.”

Cassandra turns now, intrigued. “No?”

Bull raises an eyebrow. “No. He had a bed sent in. Fancy sheets. Very _him._ ”

Cassandra shrugs. “I would not know.” She closes her eyes, and feels the rumble of Bull’s laugh against her back.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sure you wouldn’t.”

She is too tired, and too close to sleep to ask what he means by that.

And when she wakes up well after nightfall, she has forgotten what he said.


	2. the art of emotional repression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric finds some things are hard to unhear, and some people harder not to think of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why yes we are alternating POV's. 
> 
> it makes it better when it starts getting SAD.

Varric’s ears are lying to him.

He is not hearing what he thinks he hears.

Really, he shouldn’t be down here. The Inquisitor asked him not to, because he tended to go down to the strange little library under the keep and could not be found for hours. There was, Varric continued to insist, so _much_ to be read. And if Dorian could have been convinced to venture into a place where the spiderwebs nearly outnumbered the books, it would take considerably _less_ time to go through them.

But here he is, alone, and standing with his back pressed against the wall, listening to –

No. No he’s _not._

He’s not hearing _Cassandra Pentaghast_ having sex with someone, underneath Skyhold, in a dusty, filthy library, where anyone could conceivably find or hear her.

And he’s certainly not hearing The Iron Bull whispering to her.

“—that’s right, that’s good—”

“ _Maker, yes_ —”

“Your Maker’s not _here_ , Cassandra. Not while you take it from a _filthy_ fucking Qunari.”

“Oh, _fuck_ —”

Varric swallows. Cassandra doesn’t swear. Not like that.

He feels his pulse beating faster, and he can _hear_ the sound of skin on skin, of someone’s cock _plunging_ —

 _Nope_ , he thinks, and tries to make his way as silently as he possibly can back upstairs. There are a handful of people milling about, completely unaware that _Cassandra fucking Pentaghast_ –

“Shit,” he mutters, and makes himself scarce.

And the second he gets behind his closed, bolted, _secure_ door –

Varric hisses as he scrambles for his cock, wrapping a trembling hand around himself and recalling without a second thought the noise of the Seeker getting _fucked._ Because that’s what was happening, however filthy and uncouth and unkind the word may be. Cassandra and Bull went under the keep and Varric _heard them_ and it’s still making him a little crazy.

He moans, slowly jacking himself off, one hand on the edge of his desk, supporting himself.

And he hadn’t seen her, but the images of it, the way she must have been mostly clothed still, how they both must have…must have _wanted_ one another so much, that they would just—

No. They wanted the feeling. _That’s_ what they wanted. Varric can almost conjure the sensation on his own. The idea of wanting someone so badly, or wanting a feeling so much, you’d do anything to get it. And he can picture their desperate kisses, the way his hands, so much bigger than her own, would tug at her clothes and pin her to the wall. The way he would hold her down, and the noise she might make when she _begged_ , pleaded to be taken.

Would she have made those sounds, if Varric had been the one to drag her down there, to tell her how much he wanted her, how _bad_ he needed her?

“ _Fuck_ ,” is all he can manage, as he replaces the sound of Bull’s voice with his own. With his own words.

 _Your Maker’s not here, Cassandra. Not while you’re taking it from a filthy fucking surface dwarf with no family and no_ –

Alright. A little too much pity.

But it’s enough. It’s enough and he comes, makes a mess of himself and groans.

“Seeker—” he mutters, practically _spits_ , because fuck this.

Fuck this _need_ , this need he’s been fighting for so many months.

She doesn’t _want_ him, he thinks, as he tucks his cock back into his breeches.

She doesn’t _need_ him, he thinks, as he cleans his own mess.

She doesn’t _think about him_.

 

* * *

 

But Varric is still  _Varric._ And in the morning, he only lets himself really consider the idea that his life is a hopeless, destructive mess of a thing once before he gets out of bed, cleans himself up and dresses for the day. Whatever Cassandra does with her time, and whoever she does with her time – it’s no concern of his. She’s a grown woman, he’s a grown man, and just because he  _wants_ –

_No_ , he thinks. _No, we’re not going there today._

Today, he’s going to the Emerald Graves. With Bull, of all people, and Dorian. The Inquisitor thinks they make a good team, the three of them, and they aren’t wrong. And Varric isn’t _jealous_ of Bull, because there’s nothing to be jealous _of._ Cassandra isn’t his…anything. And the feelings he has for her aren’t real, they can’t be real, because real feelings can be actualized, and spoken into life.

Varric can’t speak his feelings. And so, he doesn’t.

And Bull makes it hard to be jealous, because he’s so fucking _nice._

“How’s the book coming along, Varric?”

“Which one?” Dorian asks. “The one he’s writing for the Seeker, or the one he’s writing about our _darling_ inquisitor, or the one he’s writing—”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Varric says loudly.

Bull raises a brow. “You’re writing a book for Cassandra?”

The Inquisitor turns, walking backwards and grinning. “Yes! I talked him into it. She’s a fan of his _romance serial_ , did you know that?”

“No,” Bull says, smiling. “I didn’t know that. Makes sense, though.”

“It’s trashy,” Dorian says. “But it’s rather…quaint, I suppose, that she enjoys it.”

The Inquisitor shrugs. “We all have our vices. Onward, gentlemen! There are _bandits_ to find.”

Varric chuckles, falling into step with Bull. It’s easy – despite their height difference, Varric’s learned to walk fast, and he suspects the Qunari’s learned to walk a bit slower. He looks up, and Bull seems thoughtful. “Something on your mind?” Varric pauses, and it just comes out. “Someone, maybe?”

“Hmm?” Bull glances down, shrugging. “Not sure. Hey boss, think we’ll make it back tonight?”

“Why? You have a _date_ I don’t know about?”

“Nah, you know I’d tell you if this heart had been won.”

Varric frowns, looking at his boots.

He’s even _more_ confused, now.

But he doesn’t have time for it. A giant tries to flatten them, and that can be distracting.

 

* * *

 

Despite telling himself that he won’t think of her – and despite promising that he doesn’t  _need another book to write_ – he starts writing another book.

And he starts thinking about her.

 

* * *

 

“Cassandra is quite happy these days,” Dorian says, peering down from the library window. Varric looks, and kicks himself for doing it, but doesn’t regret it.

He gets a good view of her, walking across the training yard with Cullen – _laughing._

Shit, he can’t think of a time when he saw her laugh, or said anything that made her laugh. And then he sees Bull join them, and she looks up at him with so much _fondness_ – even Dorian notices.

“You don’t think that… _vishante kaffas._ ”

“What?”

“Well…well I only…I mean—” Dorian pulls away from the window and withdraws to his little chair, blocking the view of his face with a book about curse reversals and how terribly wrong they can go. Varric sighs and figures he should go down stairs and finish the _Swords and Shields_ chapter – the Inquisitor won’t stop pestering him, and he’s getting a little too old for it – but Dorian stops him.

“Varric?”

“Yeah?”

“If you…care for someone…you should tell them. Shouldn’t you?”

“Andraste’s tits, Sparkler. Are you asking me to give you an intro course on _feelings?_ ”

“Oh, go on then,” Dorian snaps. “Should have known not to ask _you_. Pining after some woman all these years later.”

“I’m starting to regret telling you that.”

“Blame the wine,” Dorian says, waving a hand dismissively, effectively ending the conversation. Varric grunts and makes his way down the stairs, gives a nod to Solas and steps into the great hall – and bumps right into her.

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, I—” Cassandra stops, face bright and open, her smile infectious. “Varric. I…I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“Ha. Very funny.”

“Oh, _stop._ ” She swats his arm, rather playfully, too. Something she’s never done. “It was not a barb. I was only wondering if you’d seen the Inquisitor.”

“About an hour ago, went to talk to Josephine.”

“Ah, thank you.” She puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she adds. “I did not mean to insult you.”

And with another smile, she turns and heads toward Josephine’s office.

Varric stands perfectly still, aware that the rest of the world is moving on, and watches the door shut behind her.

“It will do you no good to observe without action,” Solas says quietly behind him.

Varric scowls. “Can it, Chuckles.”

 

* * *

 

The words make their way into his story without thought.

_Your Maker’s not here, not while you take it from a filthy, fucking Qunari._

And the image, the sound, the phantom sensation – it makes its way into his head again, and Varric lies in bed, on his side, panting. He says her name, or the closest he can manage –

“ _Seeker—_ ”

He comes with a groan, chest heaving. He swears, gets out of bed and shoves his cock back into his breeches, looking for something to drink.

 

* * *

 

_“Ashar—”_

_“You’re here for a reason, Lisette. You want this.”_

_“I-I do.”_

_“You would defy your Maker? For what?”_

_“For you.” She reached up and stroked his cheek. “I love you.”_

_The Qunari trembled under her touch. “Don’t let it be a lie.”_

_“It’s not. It’s the truth, Ashar. I swear it.”_

_He laughed, lifting her up and spinning her around. “You love me.”_

_“With my whole heart.”_

 

* * *

 

Varric crumples the paper.

Too sentimental. Too saccharine. Too—

He takes another drink, and tosses the paper into the fire.

The heart, he decides, is a weak thing. And he can’t for the life of him figure out why the Maker or the Ancestors or _whoever_ would decide to give one to him.


	3. keeping your cool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra learns to benefit from a reward system.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i keep surprising even myself.

He finds her praying. She can tell it’s him, from the way he walks, and the weight of his body against the walls of their meager Chantry. Today she is praying that the Inquisitor will be successful in the Approach, and that they will return quickly and safely. Bull doesn’t speak to her until she stands and turns.

“Cullen said you were here.”

“You were looking for me?”

“You were gone for a while. I was worried.”

Cassandra smiles, reaching out to take his hand. He has been good to her, and she’s glad of his friendship. She’s glad of his Chargers, who seem to understand more than she thought they might. But, they know their leader. And their leader doesn’t lie, not to them.

He promised Cassandra he wouldn’t lie to her either, but she doesn’t plan to hold him to that. He is who he is, after all.

“Walk with me,” she says, and he nods, letting her lead the way. They pass through the roses, and find themselves alone on one of the benches. “I haven’t been able to say thank you. Not…properly.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You were pretty grateful that last time—” She nudges him with her elbow, and Bull chuckles. “I get it, Seeker. You want to say thanks for being a good lay, for helping you get over whatever it is you want to get over. For, uh, letting you in on secrets you didn’t even know about yourself.” He winks, and Cassandra’s cheeks flush. “This isn’t where we go our separate ways, though.”

Cassandra smiles. “No. I have…enjoyed our arrangement.”

“I know, I’ve been there.”

“ _Ugh._ Why must you be this way?”

“It’s my charm. It’s growing on you, admit it.”

Cassandra rolls her eyes and stands, bending down to kiss his cheek.

“You are a good friend to me. I will let you know if I will be coming by later.”

“Nah,” he says. “Surprise me.”

 

* * *

 

Nothing surprises The Iron Bull.

Cassandra sits in his lap, his cock inside her, eyes covered by soft silk. This is the first time he’s blindfolded her, and the first time she has consented to it before. She finds the theft of one of her favored senses… _excites_ her. He lays beneath her while she presses her feet flat to the bed, hands splayed on his abdomen, and observes. Cassandra’s muscles burn with the effort of taking him over and over again, but her legs are strong, and she has only just started.

“C’mon, Seeker,” he snaps. “Pick up the pace.” She only nods, tries to move quick enough to satisfy him, but is rewarded with a short growl. “I said _faster_.”

And then he _spanks_ her.

Cassandra freezes. They don’t discuss what will happen, not usually. Occasionally she will make a request, or he will explain something to her with enough clarity so that she might veto it – but this…was not agreed upon. And Cassandra has never considered that she might _enjoy_ it.

Her body answers before her mouth does, shuddering with _need._

And so, he does it again.

Cassandra gasps, her skin burning under his palm. It’s a flint against her nerves, setting her off. She moves quicker, but now she has a taste for the sharp, insistent pain, and he does it again, this time with his other hand, on her other buttock. She moans, and the light smacks become quicker, now, more insistent. Her legs work harder, his cock thrusts in and out of her faster, and Bull’s breath becomes more hurried, more rushed, and she hears that little hitch in his voice, the sound he always makes when something _feels_ good, feels _right._

“That’s good, Cassandra. Just a little more.” Both his hands smack her ass, and then grab hold, trailing down and gripping her thighs. “You can do this. You’re so good, you can do this.”

“I can,” she gasps. “Oh, _yes_ , yes I can—”

“You’re gonna make me come, Seeker. That’s all you. You’re so fucking incredible, I’m gonna give it to you now.”

“ _Yes, yes, yes_ —” She gasps, feeling him the moment he orgasms, relishing in the satisfied groan that he lets out. He is not always so vocal, usually making her work for it, letting her think she isn’t working hard enough to please him, pushing her further and further each time –

But it’s been weeks since they enjoyed one another like this, and she knows he is just as grateful for a good fuck with a good friend as she is.

He lifts her off of him with ease, and she hears him sit up, wrapping her in his arms. One of his hands trails down and wipes the come from her thigh, bringing it up to her lips. Cassandra’s tongue darts out without thought, cleaning the mess. She smiles.

“Don’t ask—” he says.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Liar,” he teases. “You’re worse than me. And your habitual need to satisfy is only sexy sometimes. Right now it makes you look weak.”

Cassandra’s smile falters. “I am—”

“Don’t apologize for it,” he says gently. “Just don’t ask me anymore.” Bull leans forward, nipping the shell of her ear. “The minute you don’t satisfy me, I’ll let you know, Cassandra. But we’re never going to have that problem, because _this_ body—” He drags a thumb over her clit and she cries out. “—doesn’t quit. You’re fucking amazing.”

“I want to come,” she says.

“I know you do.”

“Please—”

“Not yet.”

“ _Bull_ —”

He pulls away, leaving her kneeling on the bed as she hears him stand. _Oh_ , she thinks.

“Do you remember? When you left for another fucking trip to the Hinterlands? I told you to do one thing for me. Do you remember what it was?”

“Yes.”

“And what was it?”

Cassandra feels almost a swell of pride, though she’s not quite sure where it’s coming from. “You asked me not to come. Not to touch myself.”

“And did you?” He reaches out and strokes her cheek. Cassandra leans into the touch, dares to press her lips to his palm.

“No,” she whispers. “I did not.”

Bull sighs, and she can hear the smile. “That’s a good girl, Seeker. A very good girl.” He goes to her, grabs her up, and pushes two fingers inside her. “Always so wet for me.”

“Oh _Bull_ , yes—”

“Always good for me. Always do as you’re told.” He bites her shoulder, and Cassandra cries out. “But then, you do that for everyone, don’t you?”

“No, that’s not—”

“You do. Someone says jump, you ask _off what?_ ”

“Please—”

“I won’t deprive you, Cassandra.” He touches her clit, and she is on fire. “I’ll give you what you need.” He strokes her carefully, fingers thrusting hard, and Cassandra comes with a shout, clenching around him, his words _burning_ in her ears. “How come you never ask _why?"_

 

* * *

 

It takes her some days to recover from all of that. Bull gives her space, though she informs him quickly that space isn’t what she needs.

“You always say the strangest things to me.”

“Seeker.” He looks at her over his dinner, setting down his fork. Cassandra has only picked at her food, his words still ringing in her ears. “You’re an open book. And when you asked to do this with me, I didn’t really think it was just so you could get laid.”

Cassandra flushes. “No,” she admits.

“You want to know things. You also want to have sex.”

“True.”

“I’m good at both of those. I already told you, you don’t like something, the word is yours to use.”

Cassandra frowns. “Even if we are just…talking.”

“Well, yeah. You can’t tell me you’re not a little turned on right now,” he says, winking.

She sighs. “Whatever will I do with you?”

Bull shrugs. “You could blow me later, if you’re in the mood.”

Cassandra laughs. “Perhaps,” she says. “Perhaps.”

 

* * *

 

She finds him praying.

Varric, of all people.

Perhaps not…praying. Perhaps contemplating, because he is still standing. She watches from just outside the Chantry, but he hears her, turning and giving her a smile. “Hey, Seeker.”

“Varric.”

“Glad we’re on speaking terms,” he says. “It’s nice.”

She sighs. “I should not have gotten so angry about Hawke.”

“Nah, I understand.” It had been a terrible few days, just after they’d arrived. Finding Garrett Hawke at Skyhold, knowing that Varric had kept him – Cassandra had considered murder, for the first time. But Bull had helped her get over that, in some way.

He’d laughed at her anger, and asked if she’d ever had a friend she would die for.

“Still your feelings,” he’d said. “You’re still allowed to be mad. Someone lies to you, someone tells you one thing and means another, you should be angry. But you work with Varric, now. You’re on the same side. Try a little understanding.”

And so, she had tried it. It had taken time. It is still taking time.

But she doesn’t want to strangle Varric whenever she sees him. Cassandra considers that progress.

“You still with me, Seeker?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” She sits in a pew. “I did not realize you had returned to the Chantry.”

“I needed to…think about something,” he says. He doesn’t look at her. “There’s just a lot on my mind.”

“It is war,” she says.

Varric nods. “My mother was Andrastian.”

“Oh? I did not know that.”

“After my father died. She started attending services. Got a lot of shit for it. Bartrand wouldn’t go, and it wasn’t like her, really. Wasn’t good behavior for a woman so concerned with bringing honor back to House Tethras.” Cassandra realizes with a jolt that Varric is drunk – she can smell whiskey.

“Varric—”

“Sorry,” he mutters, and bends down to pick up the bottle she hadn’t known was there. “Sorry, this isn’t very…very _decent_ of me.”

“Perhaps you should go to bed.”

“Yeah, probably.” He takes a swig from the bottle and looks at her. “Say a prayer for me, won’t you? Maker knows I need it.” He says something else, something she can’t quite hear, but she doubts it would have brought her peace.

 

* * *

 

She goes to Bull, later, a book in her hand.

“I would like to read to you,” she says.

He smiles, and lets her in. “Not your usual foreplay.”

“No foreplay,” she says. “I would…simply like to read to you.”

“Alright,” he says. “I’d like that.” He reclines on his bed again, setting aside his own book. “What are we reading?”

“Something I borrowed from Dorian.”

“Is it filthy Tevinter smut?”

“It is.”

Bull chuckles. “Well, then it might be foreplay after all.”

Cassandra smiles. “Perhaps I will surprise you.”

“Oh, Seeker.” Bull watches as she pulls up a battered armchair next to the bed. “You might manage it, someday. You just might.”  


	4. for the sake of argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric is starting to collect secrets, but that doesn't mean he understands them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's wet and cold in the desert and i am listening to the pogues and feelings rather bothered, but i am happy with the work that i've gotten done on this chapter and the next few, because they are done and being edited. 
> 
> it feels good to finally be able to write this story, oof. 
> 
> go listen to the pogues <3

He should not have let her see him like that.

Varric regrets it. He adds it to the ever-growing list of stupid things he wishes he could take back, and wonders if he’ll have to beg her forgiveness.

But he meets her at breakfast, and she puts a gentle hand on his shoulder before going outside to meet with Cullen and a group of new recruits.

And he isn’t in the mood to brood, after that. Instead, he takes his food to his table, and he sits down to write.

Of course, the problem with agreeing to write a book for the Seeker was that Varric had roughly eight-hundred and forty-seven things to say to her. And it was hard, trying to decide between expressing them in some terrible, shitty little book – and pretending like they had never existed. Varric _excelled_ at the latter.

None of it was made easy, of course, by the fact that he was now more privy to Cassandra and Bull’s relationship than he had been before. He had Cole to blame for that.

“She cares for him, he gives her so much, he helps her understand. And she makes him smile, he laughs when he’s with her, he laughs when he thinks about her, but she makes him sad, too, because he knows she’s missing something—”

Varric grabs Cole by the arm, jerking him behind a rose bush in the garden where he has accidentally stumbled upon the Seeker and The Iron Bull having a stroll.

Cole continues, but the words are muffled by Varric’s hand.

“ _Kid._ ”

“Oh. Oh, I’ve done something wrong, haven’t I?”

“That shit’s kinda private.”

“Yes, it is. I understand that, now. It’s something she doesn’t want everyone to know, just like you don’t want _her_ to know that you think about her whenever the Knight-Captain is on her knees—”

Varric leaves him there, and goes back to his desk in the hall to be alone among the crowd.

 

* * *

 

The other problem with agreeing to write a book for the Seeker is that the  _other_ story, the one no one asked for, won’t stop coming to him. It haunts him, like the sound of her and Bull below the keep.

_Your Maker isn’t here._

Her voice, trembling with want.

_Not while you take it from a filthy, fucking Qunari._

It spills out, forcing itself into ink, nameless forms tucked below a secret stronghold, finding warmth and solace in one another where there was none before. Varric has to write it down, he has to get rid of it, or it will drive him mad.

And the moment he does, the moment the words take form on paper – it frees him. He sleeps that night, and for the first time in days, he doesn’t imagine what she might have looked like, because each night he has grown bolder in his fantasy. Less clothing, less realism. _Unacceptable_ , the writer in him chastises, though he counters with the question – _when has anything I write been realistic?_ Rooted in reality, certainly.

But truly _real?_

That line, that scene – they might be the truest things he’s ever written.

He doesn’t throw it away. He sets it on the corner of his desk, and moves on.

 

* * *

 

He travels with Dorian, Bull, and the Inquisitor to the Exalted Plains. Partway through the second day, the Inquisitor splits them up, and Dorian practically drags Varric by the scruff of his neck off in one direction, leaving Bull and their Inquisitor to walk, confused, in the other.

“ _Vishante kaffas_ , like I want to spend any more time than I must with that oaf.”

Varric sighs. “Is this the part where I ask you what’s wrong and you say you don’t want to talk about it, but you tell me anyway?”

“You _know_ he’s sleeping with Cassandra.” Varric’s brow ticks up, and Dorian points. “You _do_ know! You found out. How did you find out?”

“That’s none of your business. It’s no one’s business, Sparkler.”

“I went to talk to him,” Dorian says. “I went to tell him that I’ve got this terrible _nagging_ feeling, and I know that it’s about him. He flirts constantly, he _teases_ me nonstop. How could I not be curious? How could I _not_ wonder?”

“ _Sparkler_ —”

“And then I go to his room, and I can _hear_ them, Varric. I can hear them and it—” Dorian shudders. “Do you think he loves her?”

“I don’t know,” Varric says quietly.

“Maker, do you think she loves _him?_ ”

“Same question,” Varric points out.

Dorian shrugs. “Not really. Qunari don’t treat sex like we do. It’s not about love to them.”

“I think we should talk about something else,” Varric says. “You’re shaking.”

Dorian looks down at the staff in his hand, trembling.

“I…I’m sorry, Varric.”

“Don’t be.”

“Let’s just look for the damn camp,” Dorian mutters. They walk in silence for a long while. Varric watches the sky, because the clouds seem to be growing dark with a storm. Just as he thinks about saying something about this to Dorian, the sky breaks open, and it begins to pour.

“ _Dammit!_ ” Dorian grabs Varric again and drags him below a rocky outcrop. They’re getting closer to the Dalish encampment Harding marked on the map, and Varric would prefer not to go into it alone, particularly not with a Tevinter mage. Dorian seems to feel the same way, because he turns to Varric and says, “We’ll find them when it stops. We can’t risk meeting the elves alone.” Varric nods, wrapping his duster closer around him. Dorian builds a little fire, and shields them from the wind.

“You know,” the mage says, after a long bout of silence. “I shouldn’t be afraid. Sitting here, thinking I know what’s really happening between them. If he loves her then that’s that, isn’t it? Be a bit hard not to, I would think.”

“Hard _not_ to fall in love with Cassandra?”

“Well, perhaps it would be for _you._ But for him? She’s a warrior. She’s strong, she follows orders and asks the right questions. She’s faithful. Perhaps not to the same faith, but it takes a similar conviction.”

“I guess.”

“And she’s attractive, I suppose. For a woman. I don’t know much about that.”

“She’s…something.”

Dorian looks over at him. “Can I ask you a question, Varric?”

“Sure.”

“Why are you writing her the book?”

Varric shrugs. “Inquisitor asked me to.”

“You could have said no.”

“I could have.” Dorian’s gaze is piercing, even from Varric’s peripheral. “What are you getting at, Sparkler?”

More silence. Dorian sighs.

“Nothing, I suppose.”

They wait until the storm has dissipated, and when they finally reach the Dalish encampment, Bull and the Inquisitor are already there. Dorian’s voice is bright when they meet, saccharine and charming. If Varric hadn’t been witness to his upset before, he wouldn’t have even known otherwise.

But Bull knows. He always seems to know.

 

* * *

 

It takes Varric several more days to finish the next chapter of  _Swords and Shields._ He finds the Inquisitor, after painstakingly binding it by himself late into the night – for what reason, he isn’t sure. He’s certain at this point Cassandra might read parts of the next chapter if he scribbled them in the mud outside the tavern. And their fearless leader practically screams when Varric shows it to them, grabbing it up and turning it over.

“You really went all out.”

“She’s the only fan,” Varric says, brushing it off. The Inquisitor doesn’t seem to care, handing it back and standing.

“We’ll go right now.”

“Right _now?_ She’s training, she’ll kill us both.”

“I’m pretty sure her rage could be placated by a copy of her favorite book.”

Varric sighs. “Yeah, I suppose that’s true.” He tucks it into his belt and follows the Inquisitor out into the yard. Cassandra spots them as they get closer and narrows her eyes. “What are the two of you up to?”

“Seeker.” Varric puts a hand over his heart. “I’m hurt.” Cassandra raises an eyebrow, but her smile is beginning to show at the edge of her mouth. “I know the whole Hawke thing still…rankles,” he says, though they both know that’s hardly true. Not after their conversation in the Chantry. Not after Varric showed his ass—

“You explained well enough,” she says quickly, saving him. Varric smiles, opening his mouth to say something else, but—

“Oh just _give it to her_ already!” the Inquisitor says, and snags the book from Varric’s belt. Cassandra almost flinches when it reaches her hands.

“You…you didn’t—”

“I did! I told him. I _had_ to tell him, I couldn’t help myself.”

Cassandra turns the book over, looking at the cover. “It’s…it’s new?”

Varric rubs the back of his neck. “Just finished this week. Still needs editing.”

She closes her eyes. “You did not have to.”

“Well I’ll take it back if you don’t want it. I’m sure you don’t really care what happens to—”

“Don’t _tell_ me,” Cassandra says quickly, pressing the book to her chest. “If you’ve done _anything_ to her,” she snaps. “She was _innocent_ —”

“Alright, alright.” Varric holds his hands up, feeling his neck grow hot looking at her expression.

Pure, unadulterated _joy._

“I…”

“I _think_ you owe someone a thank you,” the Inquisitor says quietly.

Cassandra nods. “Yes…thank you, Varric. I…this is a wonderful gift.”

He shrugs. “Just doing as I’m told.”

She locks eyes with him suddenly, so quickly – it stirs something, makes his nerves snap to attention. He swallows thickly, ignoring the growing discomfort in his trousers, trying to play it off.

“Uh, enjoy, Seeker. Tell your friends, you know. If you have any.” He gives a weak wave and backs off, but her gaze is still piercing, following him until he disappears up the stairs.

And even with walls and people and magic between them – he still feels her eyes, boring into his.

A secret shared between them that even he doesn’t know.  


	5. in for a pound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra has a revelation, but finds it doesn't bother her as she thought it might.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [law and order sound]

Bull asks if she wants to read Varric’s book to him, and Cassandra agrees. He listens attentively, and she finds that he is a good audience.

“This is your favorite book?”

“I…yes.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He chuckles. “Is it about Varric?”

“Of course not. I do not mind that he knows.”

Bull raises a brow, taking the book from her and turning it over. “That’s a pretty nice gift.”

“The Inquisitor asked him to do it.”

“Oh, so he’s like _you_ then?” She looks at him, taking the book back and setting it aside. “Does that make you think, a little?”

“I…am not sure.”

Bull pulls her in, pushing his hands under her shirt and maneuvering her to the bed. “Does it make you think about him?”

“…Yes.”

“Does it make you want him?”

Cassandra closes her eyes. “It does.” She had been intrigued by what he’d said, without even realizing it. “I…dreamt about him. The other night.”

“What did you dream about?” He starts undressing her, touching her carefully as she speaks.

“We were…in the Chantry. It was dark. He…kissed me. Or I kissed him, I couldn’t…it was confusing. But we kissed. He said something, but it was so hard to hear and I only…I wanted him. And I told him I did.”

“Did he fuck you?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

She shivers at the thought, and lets Bull push her further up the bed, finally sliding her trousers down. He doesn’t undress her often, but she enjoys the luxury when she can. “He sat in the…in the pew – _ah!_ ” Bull drags his tongue over her clit, and she looks at him. “Yes, _more_.”

“Keep talking.”

“H-he made me undress myself. I was naked, there. It was a sin, you know this.” She feels his finger push into her, and she sighs in relief. “So _good_ —” Bull stops, and she continues. “I was naked in the Chantry, and he—” She recalls the dream, and moans. “He took out his cock, and he pulled me into his lap. I fucked myself on his cock.”

“Did you come?”

“He touched me. He helped me.”

“Did he come inside you?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“What else happened?”

Cassandra’s composure slips again when he presses a second finger inside her. “ _Bull_ —”

“Come on, Cassandra. It didn’t end there, don’t hold back on me.”

“No, he—” The memory makes her wetter, and Bull makes a pleased noise. “He laid me on the floor, right there, in the Chantry. He…he took me there. He fucked me, where the Maker could see, where anyone could see.”

“You like that, don’t you?”

“Oh, _yes_.”

“You like it when someone might see you, with your legs spread.”

“I do, I _do_ —”

“He’d do it. He’d fuck you if you asked him to.”

Cassandra shakes her head. “He would not, it’s a dream, that’s all—”

“How much do you want him?”

She moans, reaching down and grabbing on of his horns for purchase, trying to last. It isn’t _fair_ that this is all it takes to make her come undone, and she has to work so _hard_ with him. She cries out as a third finger pushes into her, and looks at him. He’s staring back.

“I don’t _know_ ,” she says. “I only…I only know that I do. I want him, I—” Cassandra wraps her legs around his neck and grinds down, forcing his fingers deeper inside her. “I want him, I do, I – _Varric!_ ”

She comes, Bull’s fingers spreading her almost impossibly. She feels so very far away.

Bull looks pleased, and it bothers her. Cassandra swats his arm as he pulls his fingers from her. “Don’t look so _smug._ ”

“You want Varric to fuck you in the Chantry.”

“I do _not._ I…not _there._ Not really.”

“So…you’d settle for somewhere else?”

She rolls her eyes. “I do not know. It is…new.”

“How long have you been thinking about him?”

“Since…since he gave me the book. Last week.”

Bull nods. “Alright. Do you plan to do anything about it?” It’s not a question meant to pressure. Cassandra knows this. He only wants to know, but she can’t really say. “It’s alright. Like you said, it’s new.” He glances between her legs, where her thighs shine. Cassandra looks away, but he forces her gaze back on him. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of what you want. Or who. He wants you, too.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. You read that book to me. That dwarf wants to fuck you _bad_ , Cassandra. He might even be falling in love with you.”

Now _that_ she considers to be too much of a stretch.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Varric and I may have a…tentative friendship, but he…he is hardly enamored.”

“Suit yourself.” Bull sighs, pulling himself up on the bed with her. “I do need to talk to you about something, though.”

Cassandra frowns. “Alright.”

“It’s…Dorian.”

“What about him?”

“He’s…got something on his mind. I know he wants to talk to me, but I know he knows about us.”

Cassandra flushes. “How could he possibly—”

“You’re kind of loud when you get fucked, Seeker. And I think he may have heard.”

“Oh, _Maker._ This…this is…” She frowns. “It’s not…as bad as I thought it might be, actually.”

“See? You’re starting not to give a shit. It’s good.”

She sighs. “Fine, he knows. What are you getting at?”

“He wants to talk to me, and I want to talk to him too.”

She smacks his arm again. “Will you just _say_ it?”

Bull laughs. “I’m rubbing off on you, admit it.” Cassandra growls. “We flirt a lot. I think he wants to test the waters, see if it’s worth riding The Bull.”

“Oh.” Cassandra looks away, but he doesn’t force her to look back. “Do you…do you have feelings for him?”

“I like Dorian. He’s strong, and I respect that. Like you.” He pauses. “I think he may want more than you do…and I think it could work.”

Cassandra nods and finally looks at him. “Of course. I…I should have known.”

For the first time since she’s known him, Bull looks confused. “Known…what?”

“That this would have to end. If you have feelings for Dorian, then you should act on them. It’s fine with me—”

Bull holds up his hands. “Hang on, Cassandra. _Hang on._ ” He puts his fingers under her chin. She…adores him, when he does that. Her friend. Something just for them. “This doesn’t have to end. This doesn’t end until you say you can’t do this anymore.”

“But…Dorian—”

“I can have feelings for Dorian, and still want to be there for you. Still want to be _with_ you. You wanted this, no strings attached. That means on my half, too.”

“So…so if you and Dorian—”

“Yeah, Cassandra.”

She feels her heart skip a beat, and she nods, smiling.

“You are a good friend to me.”

“You’re a good friend to me, too, Seeker. And you’ve got a _fantastic_ rack.”

She hits him over the head with a pillow for that, but she goes down on him anyway, just because she’s so endeared.

 

* * *

 

Cassandra doesn’t know when Dorian and Bull finally talk. He doesn’t tell her when it will happen, and it’s none of her business, in truth. She is confident enough in what she has with Bull to trust him. She understands more, these days. She is happier. There are moments when, despite the weight of this world, her questions about her Order and her future, she is filled with pure bliss.

Dorian finds her during one of those moments, cleaning up the sparring ring, and practicing her swing.

“Are you _singing_ , Cassandra?”

“I am.”

He leans against the fence and watches her for a moment before hopping it with ease. “I had a nice conversation with our good Qunari friend yesterday evening. He told me a great deal about you.” Cassandra pauses, looking at him. Bull had asked her if it was alright to tell Dorian about the terms of their relationship, and she had agreed. She expects him to be upset when their eyes meet, but he’s smiling.

“What?”

“I’m just trying to imagine what that first conversation was like between the two of you. Did you really just _say it?_ ”

“Oh, Maker take you, Dorian.”

“I mean, it’s _precious_ , in my opinion. No wonder you’re so happy.”

“We do not do it every day.”

“But you sometimes do it _during_ the day, when you should be doing your Seeker-ly duties, or whatever.” She sighs, and Dorian puts a hand on her shoulder. “I like you, Cassandra, even if you infuriate me on occasion. And I’m…working on how I feel about Bull. But I won’t get between whatever it is that you have, because I…I trust you. I know that you are a woman who knows what she wants.”

Cassandra smiles. “I am.”

“And you want that Qunari, clearly.”

“He is very skilled.”

Dorian sighs. “We haven’t, yet. I wanted to talk to you first. He thinks all this is very silly, but I think he’s doing it all out of respect.”

Cassandra nods. “He is like that, isn’t he?”

“Yes, big softy inside. Well, I’m glad we had this little talk, my dear. Can I buy you a drink? And maybe you can give me a few…tips.” Cassandra laughs and concedes, putting away her practice sword and following Dorian to the tavern. They do not talk long about Bull, mostly because they begin having a spirited debate on exactly how long Dorian would last in a Circle, and it ends with Bull pulling them apart by scruff of their necks and forcing them to buy one another a bottle of wine.

It’s the start of something good, Cassandra thinks, even if she wants to _strangle_ that mage.

 

* * *

 

The Inquisitor asks Cassandra to go with them to Emprise. Varric knows of a few lyrium stashes to bust up, and Suledin Keep, they say, is haunted by a demon.

“Bull’s going with his Chargers back to Haven for a few days, and Blackwall’s not well. Come with us?”

“Of course,” she says. She’s been doing better, since she admitted her desire for Varric to Bull, and been able to actually speak to him without burning inside. “Whenever you are ready, I will be as well.” The Inquisitor smiles, and they make plans to leave at dawn.

Varric appears at her elbow, and Cassandra jumps.

“Ah, sorry,” he says, smiling. “Excited for the snow?”

“Hardly.” She looks at him. “Will you…be well? With all the lyrium?”

“I’ll have to be, won’t I?” He shrugs. “Besides…I can’t let Cole go. It gets to him. And Sera just won’t. Busting that stuff up…it’s my job. I’ve got to make sure we get rid of it.”

“You speak as though you are personally responsible for it.”

Varric shrugs. “Sometimes it feels that way.” Cassandra means to say something, but he turns and gives her a smile. “See you bright and early then, Seeker. Deal?”

“Of course, Varric. Bright and early.” She watches him go, and returns to her quarters to pack.

The dream is gentler, that night, and in his face she imagines she sees that same sadness, hears that same tone.

_Sometimes it feels that way._

Cassandra shudders. She touches herself and comes, and wonders how someone with such a smile can be prone to such misery.

 

* * *

 

“So Varric, are you and Cassandra—”

“ _What?_ No, why would you even ask that?”

“Truly? Bizarre.”

Cassandra turns and fixes Dorian with a glare. He _grins._

“I am standing _right. Here._ ”

“See? She's right there. What are you waiting for?” Dorian falls into step beside her, as Varric and the Inquisitor make their way over another snowy hill. Cassandra stomps on his foot, and he shoves a fist in his mouth to stifle a shout.

 “Just because two people dislike each other doesn't mean they're about to kiss, Sparkler.”

Dorian takes a breath. “N-not according to your books.”

Varric doesn’t even look back, and Cassandra is grateful. “Don't mistake me for that hack who wrote  _Hard in Hightown II_. I can spell.”

Dorian shrugs as Cassandra turns on him. “ _What are you doing?_ ”

“Bull said you could use a push!”

“Oh, for the Maker’s sake. You will both be the death of me.”

Dorian smiles. “Yes, well I suspect death by Qunari-sex would be far more pleasurable to whatever _I_ could dream up for you.”

Cassandra stomps on his foot again, and this time he doesn’t have a spare moment to silence himself. The Inquisitor turns.

“Everything alright?”

Cassandra smiles brightly. “Dorian tripped on a bit of icy rock.”

The Inquisitor laughs, continuing to walk on. “Told you not to wear your _nice_ boots, Dorian.”

He growls at Cassandra. “ _Yes._ I am so very clumsy. I _will_ try to be more careful.”

“I told you he was too dainty for the snow,” Varric says.

“Isn’t there a cave nearby you need to be digging around in? Satisfy some sort of intricate _guilt_ complex?”

The Inquisitor points, glancing down at the map before putting it away. “Up ahead. Varric, you and Cassandra go in, give that stash a good beating. Dorian and I will give you cover and shields up ahead. Anything tries to eat you, holler.”

“Fantastic,” Varric mutters, and steps into the dark entrance of the cave.

Dorian pulls Cassandra back for a moment and whispers, “Keep the hollering to a minimum, if _someone_ agrees to eat you himself—”

Cassandra does not regret stepping on his foot a third time, and follows Varric into the cave.

Varric glances back, frowning. “Sparkler okay?”

“His foot pains him.”

“He’s just milking it.” Varric shifts his crossbow into his hands and nods. “Right. Sooner we get in, sooner we can get out. I hate caves.”

“You have never mentioned this to me before,” Cassandra say dryly.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Seeker.” He grins at her as they turn a corner, the red of the lyrium glowing brightly. Cassandra shudders. “It’s nasty stuff.”

“I…I do not like how it makes me feel.”

“Makes you tired, doesn’t it?” She nods. “Makes you think of things you haven’t thought of in years.”

“Can we just get rid of it and go?”

Varric nods. “Yeah.” He takes aim with his bow, and fires a bolt into the middle. The stuff splinters, and Cassandra raises her shield, shattering the rest of it. They destroy a few carts and take some papers about other locations and shipping orders. Varric looks pale in the red light of the remaining pieces.

“Are you alright?”

He looks at her. “Not really.”

“Come then. We—”

The ground beneath her feet begins to rumble, and Cassandra hears it, so distinctly. The sound of _wings_. Their strong beat, like an aching heart. She hears Dorian and the Inquisitor shout, and Cassandra feels the dragon fly very low.

The rocks around them tremble, and Varric grabs her hand.

“ _Run!_ ”

She does, her feet carrying her further from the lyrium, closer to the entrance. She is close, but Varric is not. She turns back, and she knows she will beat him out of the cave, but he will be trapped. She knows he will be here, in a _place_ he hates, surrounded by _things_ that he hates.

And he will be alone.

Cassandra sees the Inquisitor’s face only once before she turns back. She grabs Varric, she pushes him, but she knows they are too late. She has wasted enough time, and the entrance to the cave is swallowed by rocks.

She looks for Varric, realizing his hand is no longer in her own. She calls out his name, just as a stone strikes the back of her head, and everything goes dark.


	6. all who wander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are said in the damp space of the cave, but if no one else is around to hear it, does it _really_ matter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the resolution to the cave-hanger.  
> get it?  
> it's not a cliff it's  
> a cave.
> 
> fuck it.

He’s cold.

He’s so _cold._

He’s cold and he’s shaking, but he doesn’t think he’s shaking _from_ the cold. His hands are bloody. Is it his blood? It might be. The Seeker is there, she’s not awake, there’s blood on her neck and he realizes he is holding her, asking for her.

He’s saying her name.

The blood is hers.

“ _Cassandra._ ”

She doesn’t move.

Varric’s shoulder twinges, and he realizes it’s dislocated. He can’t fix it himself, and the Seeker is still out. She might be dead, Varric doesn’t have the energy to check her pulse. He just hopes beyond hope that saying her name will make her come back to him, will make her _breathe._

“Cassandra, come on.” He bends down, just close enough to try and listen for her heart. “Open your eyes. Wake up, _wake up._ ” Varric presses his forehead to her chest, and he hears it.

It’s weak. But he hears it.

Her heart.

He swallows, and finds the energy to put his hand over that one spot, the one that proves she’s alive.

 

* * *

 

He has no idea when he hears them. The Inquisitor and Dorian are shouting. He shouts back.

“We’re alive!”

“—go—help—”

“Right,” he calls back. “Just…just hurry.”

He can barely hear them. The ringing in his ears is only starting to fade. He turns back to the Seeker, and finds her beginning to stir.

“ _Shit._ ”

“Oh. _Oh._ ” She gasps, jerking off the cave floor and looking around frantically. Varric sees the moment panic settles in, when she reaches for her sword and tries to fight. “ _Varric!_ ”

“I’m here,” he says. “Seeker, I’m right here.”

She squints, tries to make him out before she drops her sword and throws her arms around him. “Oh, you’re _alive._ ”

“Of course I am, it’s you I was worried about.” He pulls back. “Lemme see your head.”

“My…my head?” She reaches behind her, and her fingers come away bloody. “ _Maker_.”

“It’s not too deep. You remember everything?”

“I…think so. But I need to sit.” She grabs onto his shoulder, and Varric eases her down, gritting through the pain. “Is there water?”

“Yeah, here.” He passes his canteen to her. There’s snow in the cave, wood for a fire. They have a few rations on them, but he isn’t worried about any of that. He’s worried about her head, the lyrium he can still hear, about the rest of the cave falling in. “Shit, what even happened?”

“Didn’t you hear it?”

“I don’t…I heard this rushing noise. Sounded like the water going in and out of the harbor back home.”

“It was a dragon. It flew close to us. There are high dragons here. We must be cautious when we venture out again.”

Varric snorts. “ _Venture out?_ Seeker, you’re going back.”

“We came all this way. I will—”

“No. You’ll go back to Skyhold. You need to make sure your head is okay.”

“My head is _fine_ Varric, I’ve no need to be mothered. I have people who do that enough already.”

Varric scowls. “Oh, really? Like who? Nightingale find time to cluck and fawn over you?”

Cassandra folds her arms over her chest. “It is none of your business.”

“Fine. I guess not.”

“You would guess correctly, then.”

She pushes herself further away from him, tossing the canteen onto the ground between them.

The silence swallows them up.

 

* * *

 

“The rocks must be deep,” she says quietly, after half an hour of the silent treatment.

“Oh, you’re speaking to me again?”

“Dorian is strong, he could have broken a simple layer of rocks. The Inquisitor is skilled, too. We must be buried deeper than I thought.”

“Cullen will send soldiers. Shit, he’ll come here himself if he doesn’t think they’ll do it right.”

Cassandra looks up. “They must be careful. They could cause the rest of the cave to…to crumble.”

Varric swallows, tries to make light. “Maybe we should dig our way out.”

She looks at him and smiles. “Not a terrible suggestion.”

“Glad we can finally agree.”

 

* * *

 

“I liked the book.”

“Huh?” Varric’s almost dozed off. Cassandra’s made a rather large fire, and moved to sit next to him. She adds a few more pieces of wood from the crates – clear of lyrium she’d told him, before she’d started burning them.

“I said that I enjoyed the book. The one you wrote for me.”

“Well, it’s nice to know you have such good taste in drivel, Seeker.”

“It is not drivel. It is literature.”

“You have a very loose definition of the word _literature_.” She looks at him, perhaps a little hopeful. “Well, maybe if it’s so popular with its only fan, I’ll give it one more shot.”

“Oh, you _must!_ You could not simply leave her like that on the boat! She was alone!”

“She had the ship captain.”

“He was rather dashing, this is true. But her lover…he would not appreciate knowing she was falling for someone else.”

“How do you know she’s falling for him?”

She shrugs. “It is only a guess.”

“It’s…a good one. Do you…know anyone like that?”

Cassandra laughs. “Hardly. It was an observation, Varric. Nothing more.”

“Right,” he says. “That’s…right.”

 

* * *

 

The lyrium is in pieces, but it still sings.

It tells him that she is lost to him, and he hates that he believes it.

It tells him that every kind word she says, every sweet tone she uses – it’s all a lie.

She belongs to the Bull, it says.

And he hates that he believes it.

In the silence, the knowledge he has is deafening. The want he holds in is stifling. The ache for her is brutal. It hammers at him as she rests, curled up on the cave floor. He told her not to sleep, in case she has a concussion, but she says she’s fine, and Varric is too tired to argue.

He can see her face, eyes closed, posture relaxed. He wonders if this is how she always sleeps, and he hates this is the first he gets to see it.

He thought he was better, but he realizes now that he’s not.

“I know,” he says, voice barely a whisper. “I know about the two of you.”

She doesn’t stir.

He wonders.

 

* * *

 

When she wakes, she’s weak from blood loss. Varric gives her the rest of his rations. He can hear people on the other side.

“How’s your head?”

“It hurts.”

“We have another potion.”

She shakes her head. “No. I don’t need it.”

“You do,” he says. “You need to take care of yourself, you need to stay well.”

She snorts. “You sound just like him. He says that to me sometimes.”

Varric swallows. “I’m sure he’s right.”

“Neither of you know me,” she says. “You both pretend you do, but you…you don’t know anything.” She shivers. “Or perhaps you know me best. Both of you. But I am not so simple.”

“I’ve never thought that, Seeker.”

She smiles. “I know. I am sure he doesn’t either.”

“Can you stay awake for me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. That’s good.”

Cassandra shifts. “I…I will take the potion.”

“That’s good, too.” He passes the last one to her, and she swallows it. “You’re strong, Seeker.”

She nods. “I know this as well.”

 

* * *

 

She lays her head in his lap. There’s more blood, but Varric can hear them working clearer now. A rock shifts, tumbles across the cave floor.

“They’re getting close, Seeker.”

She isn’t awake. He puts his hand on her shoulder.

“If you leave me now, I’ll never write another book for your damn series again.”

More of the rocks tumble out, now. Varric sees light beginning to shine through.

“How’s that one go, Seeker? _O, Maker, hear my cry. Guide me through the blackest nights._ ”

Another rock. He hears their voices so much clearer, now.

“ _Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked._ ”

Varric hears the cry of the Chargers go up. They came back from Haven for them.

For her.

“ _Make me to rest in the warmest places._ ”

A soldier’s hand breaks through, and the rocks fall. The cave remains, and The Iron Bull steps through.

He chuckles, looking down on them both. “I told ‘em you’d take care of her.”

“She’s bleeding. She took the potions.” Varric looks at her. “She was so strong.”

Bull smiles. “She is.” He bends down and lifts the Seeker into his arms. “She’ll hate me later for it, won’t she?”

Varric smiles. “I think she’ll find a way to forgive you,” he says, right before he passes out.

 

* * *

 

He wakes and her face is swimming over him.

“Andraste’s _tits._ ”

“I see your ability to blaspheme has not been lost.”

Varric groans and sits up. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I was. And then I was well. You, on the other hand, have been unconscious for six days.”

“ _Six days_ —” He wheezes, throwing himself into a coughing fit. Cassandra sighs, handing him a cup of water. He drinks all of it. “How?”

“Dorian suspects the lyrium, but you haven’t been poisoned. You gave me all your food, and all your water, too. You were bleeding, did you know that?”

“No.”

She looks at her hands. “You…you nearly died, Varric.”

He blinks. “Oh.”

“But…you are well, now. So.” She looks up, eyes rather red. He wonders how long she’s been by his side. “We are blessed, truly.”

“I got lucky.” He groans, pain and exhaustion overtaking him.

“You will rest now,” she says, standing. “As will I. It’s been a long week.” She pauses, reaching to refill his water. “ _Though stung with a hundred arrows, though suffering from ailments both great and small, his heart was strong, and he moved on._ ” She sets down the glass and leans over, pressing her lips to his forehead.

The touch burns, long after she’s left him alone.


	7. wasted opportunity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we all learn that it is never best to leave _all_ things unsaid.

Despite faring better than Varric after the cave-in, Cassandra needs time to recover. It is several days before she joins the Inquisitor in the field again, and she’s disappointed when they throw her a soft mission on her own with Dorian to the Graves. They return with a wagon of _pottery_ , and Dorian chittering happily about sigils and runes and a dozen other things Cassandra doesn’t care anything about.

“Am I boring you?” he asks, as they unload them into the keep.

“Yes.”

Dorian laughs. “Well, I’ll be sure to tell the Inquisitor you’re feeling better. I think you only threatened to kill me seven times in the forest.”

“Who knew I was capable of such restraint,” she says, dryly. She wipes her brow as a shadow falls over them, and she looks up to find Bull lifting Dorian right off the ground by his waist and giving him a good spin.

“Put me _down_ , you _insufferable_ oaf!”

Bull chuckles, but does as he’s told with a smile. “Two of my favorite people. Did you have fun in the woods?”

“No,” Cassandra says bitterly.

Dorian waves his hand. “She didn’t get to stab anything.”

“We’ll spar, then.”

Cassandra looks up. “You have the time?”

“I’ve got all the time for you.” He grins and reaches around to give her ass a firm squeeze. “Meet you at the ring in an hour.”

Dorian sighs as the Qunari walks out. “What _ever_ will we do with him?”

 

* * *

 

Cassandra tests the practice swords one by one, giving them a light swing.

“Hey, you look like your old self again.” She turns, and Varric is leaning against the fence, grinning. Cassandra feels… _butterflies._ She can hardly stand herself.

“Thank you.” She smiles and sheaths the sword, closing the distance between them. “You look well, Varric.” He looks…startled, by her honesty. Cassandra tips her head, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Seeker…”

“Are we ready?” Bull leaps nimbly over the fence and strides toward them. “Varric, you going to join her? Bit of two on one?”

“Ah, no. No…no thanks.” He backs away a few steps from the fence with a smile. “You two…have fun.”

Cassandra looks at him, frowning. “Varric—”

“Let me know how bad you beat him, Seeker. I’ll put it in the book.” He gives her a wink and strides back toward the main hall.

“Hey.” Bull puts a hand on her shoulder. “Everything alright between you two?”

“I…think so, yes.”

“Wanna go after him?”

Cassandra looks up at him, squinting at the sun shining down through his horns. “No,” she says. “I want to knock you down a few times first.”

Bull chuckles. “Good choice, Seeker.”

 

* * *

 

After that, it becomes hard to even _find_ Varric. It seems whenever Cassandra is looking for him, he vanishes. Bull takes note.

“Did you say something to him?”

“I didn’t.” They’re walking through the Chantry garden, finding some of the plants the Inquisitor planted and then, as per usual, forgot about. Cassandra sighs and bends down to pick a handful of Royal Elfroot. “I would _like_ to, but he is avoiding me, I think.”

“Seems like it.” Bull frowns. “He knows about us.”

“He…no.” Cassandra shakes her head, gathering up a few more plants. “I don’t think so. Varric and I are just…we are trying to find a common ground.”

“If that’s what you’d like to believe.”

Cassandra shrugs. “If he knew I would think he’d tease me, _mercilessly_.”

“Maybe,” Bull agrees. “Will you go to Adamant with the Inquisitor?”

“Cullen has asked me to lead a part of his forces. He told me you would as well.” She pauses. “Dorian is joining him. As is Varric. If Hawke is here, Varric won’t let him do this alone.”

Bull makes a noise, but they spend the rest of the walk in silence.

 

* * *

 

Cassandra is pleased with the outcome at Adamant, though Dorian’s dramatic retellings of the event make her glad she was not at the Inquisitor’s side, however selfish the thought is. She is saddened at the loss of Stroud, and joins in the memorial for him, led by the Wardens. Still, the moment passes, and Hawke’s fiery presence at Skyhold is suddenly missing, leaving Varric looking rather melancholy.

Cassandra finally catches him alone one afternoon, startling him from his letter writing. “Varric?”

He starts at her touch, but smiles when he realizes it’s her. “Hey, Seeker.”

“How are you feeling? Dorian says it was…quite a trip.”

“Dorian exaggerates,” Varric mutters, but he looks thoughtful. “He’s not wrong about everything, I suppose. Still. Something on your mind?”

Cassandra considers lying, telling him that there’s nothing she needs to say, no truth that needs to be revealed – nothing at all.

“I…” Across the hall, she spots Bull heading out the doors with Krem and the others. He nods.

Cassandra turns back to Varric. “Yes,” she says. “Will you walk with me?”

Varric looks surprised, but he nods, making one last note on his letter and setting down his quill. He follows her down the steps and across the grounds, into the gardens. The place is empty, and Cassandra settles onto a bench, gesturing for him to join her. “Is…everything alright, Seeker?”

“Yes.” She smiles, looking up through the trees. “Everything is fine. I am glad that Hawke survived. I know what he means to you.”

“Yeah, he’s living it up. Maker only knows what he’ll do in Weisshaupt, but I’m glad he’s safe.” He leans back on his hands, glancing at her. “What’s going on?”

Cassandra sighs. She feels…small. Varric’s stance is open, trusting, and all she wants to do is close in on herself like a shell, hide away from the truth that she _knows_ she should speak.

“I…I’m very glad that you and I are able to sit like this, Varric. Some months ago I wouldn’t have expected it, but I am proud of us. Can you agree with me?”

“I can.”

“Can you listen to me, then?”

Varric sits up, angling himself toward her. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” she says quietly. “I suppose you are.” Cassandra meets his gaze and smiles. “I…am very fond of you, Varric. I don’t know what that means to you, or to us both, but I…”

“Fond…of me.”

“…Yes.”

“So you have…feelings for me.”

Cassandra stiffens. “I do.”

Varric nods. “Okay.” Then: “That’s it, then?”

Oh, it would be so _easy_ to say yes. To tell him that she has nothing else to say, no other secrets, _nothing_ –

But it spills forth, and her cheeks redden. “Bull and I have an…arrangement. We…that is, he and I…” She feels Varric’s hand cover her own. Cassandra looks up.

“Hey.” His face is kind, soft and open. Cassandra does not feel as anxious as she did before. “I get it.”

“You…do?”

“Sure. You and Bull are tough. You go to war with yourselves and the rest of the world every day. You need…something.” He can’t seem to meet her gaze, now, the full force of the truth coming between them. But he hangs on, tightening his grip on her hands. “I have feelings for you, too, Seeker.”

“I…really?” He nods. “You…you do.” Cassandra feels laughter bubble up in her throat – and she lets it free. It catches Varric off guard.

“Seeker?”

“I just…I’m sorry.” She can’t stop herself, now. She frees one of her hands and covers her mouth, shaking uncontrollably. “It’s only…I did not _expect_ this. For you to reciprocate or understand my relationship with Bull. Not that I find you unsympathetic, it is only…you and I—”

“ _Cassandra._ ” Her name on his tongue surprises her. “It’s alright. Is this what you’ve been trying to tell me?” She nods. “Shit, Seeker.” He laughs with her. “Look at us. We’re awfully slow on the uptake, aren’t we.”

“We are.”

They sit like that for a while, hands clasped, the sun going down behind them. Varric says, “Can I walk you back to your forge?” and they both dissolve into laughter again.

 

* * *

 

“So?”

“I told him.”

“You did.”

Cassandra smiles, and the laughter is set free again. “I _did._ ”

Bull chuckles and reaches down, hauling her up to straddle his waist. “But you’re _here._ Not with him.”

“I…no. I’m not.” She sighs, leaning down and resting her chin on his chest. “We talked a bit more, and he walked with me, but…”

Bull sits up on his elbows. “What exactly did you _say_ to him?” Cassandra straightens, folding her arms over her chest. “No, don’t do that, I can’t _see them_ when you do that.”

She rolls her eyes and drops her arms. “I told him that I…” She frowns. “I said I was fond of him.”

Bull looks like he’s swallowed something bitter. “You said _what?_ ”

“I said I was fond of him.”

“ _Seeker_.”

“I said what I felt.”

“No, you didn’t. You’ve _told_ me how you feel about him and _fond_ wasn’t ever a _part_ of that. You told me you wanted Varric to—”

“I was _not_ going to go into _details_ about any of _that._ ”

“Then what was the damn _point_?”

Cassandra scowls. “The _point_ is that he knows how I feel.”

“He knows the most _minute_ detail of your feelings, Cassandra.”

“Well he knows about _us,_ ” she says hotly. “And he was…he…” She feels her face fall. “I…”

“Wasted a perfectly good chance to be honest with the man you _love_ ,” Bull finishes for her, urging her off him.

“But I—”

He growls at her. “I don’t know _why_ you insist on torturing yourself. Why you cling to some romantic delusion that Varric will think you’re _ready_ for him to sweep you off your feet. He’s _won’t._ He’s a thick as you are.”

“Bull…”

“I care about you, Cassandra. You’re my friend, and I’ve been proud and happy to be with you and blow off steam and _listen._ But you were the one who told me, who told the Inquisitor, that if something needs to be done, then you _do_ it. That shouldn’t just apply to war.” He puts his hands on her shoulders. “It should apply to your _heart_ as well.”

Cassandra nods. “I…alright.”

“Tomorrow I’m going to the Storm Coast with the Boss. The Qun has extended an alliance. If we play our cards right, we’ll stop a shipment of red lyrium and win that as well.” He sighs. “You should go with us.”

“Perhaps.”

“You’ve been cooped up in these mountains for too long. You’re ready for a fight, Cassandra.”

She smirks. “Lucky for you I have already been invited.”

“Good. Now, since you’re _here_ —” He rolls her over with a quick twist. “Let’s blow off some steam.”

 

* * *

 

 _Go to the coast, he said. It will be good for you, Cassandra._ She returns to Skyhold a few days later feeling no better about her situation, with a particularly morose Iron Bull in tow. She wonders if she’d have felt the same if the outcome had been different. Everyone is grateful that the Chargers are alive, but the assassins are an unwelcome addition to their populace. Bull is perfectly capable of dispatching them, but Cassandra is worried.

“Yeah, I saw that wound on his shoulder,” Varric mutters. “This isn’t the development anyone was hoping for.” They’ve taken to walking together in the evenings when they’re both available, and Cassandra has enjoyed his company. Now, though, he sounds agitated, glancing up at her. “Are you worried?”

“I am always worried about something, apparently.”

“According to Bull.”

“According to Bull.” She sighs and they settle down in the garden once more. “I insisted we put protection outside his room, but he would not agree to it. I suppose I could assist—”

“He’s a big guy,” Varric says quickly. “I’m sure he could take of this himself.”

“I _know_ that,” she snaps. “I am only—”

“Right, right. I get it.” He glances at the sky. “It’s getting dark, Seeker. We should probably go inside.”

Cassandra frowns. “Are you alright?”

“Peachy,” he says, and takes her hand to walk with her inside. Cassandra draws back before they step inside. “Seeker—”

“I have been very honest with you, Varric. If there is something you’d like to tell me—”

“There’s nothing, I promise. It’s just that—” Varric’s voice falters, and he clears his throat a few times, shaking his head. “Is that…she…”

“Varric.”

“ _Bianca_ ,” he breathes, and leaves Cassandra in the doorway.

 

* * *

 

“So who’s Bianca?” Bull asks.

Cassandra buckles her sword around her waist without looking at him. “I have no idea—”

Bull’s fingers reach under her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. “You didn’t tell him.”

“No.”

“Seeker…”

Someone clears their throat. “Inquisitor’s ready,” Varric says quietly.

Cassandra suspects the touch must look quite…intimate.

“Let’s move out then,” Bull says cheerfully. “Hopefully this cave adventure turns out better than your last,” he says, and gives Varric a sturdy clasp on the shoulder, leaving them alone.

They stand on opposite sides of the armory, watching one another.

“Varric—”

“He’s really good to you, Seeker. You’re…you’re so lucky.”

“He—”

“Let’s go,” Varric says, gentler now. “I’d…really like to get this over with.”

 

* * *

 

Cassandra blinks and opens her eyes. “There she is,” Bull says. “You alright?”

“I…what happened?”

“You seem to be fond of taking large rocks to the skull,” the Inquisitor says kindly. “But this one has fared better than the last. You’ll be fine. Bull snatched you up right quick. Are we ready, you two?” The Inquisitor stands, turning now toward Varric and Bianca. They stand at the entrance to another door in the thaig, watching them. Cassandra can feel Varric’s gaze on her intently. Bull kneels at her side, his hand resting gently on her arm.

“You need to stop throwing yourself under falling debris,” he murmurs, and helps her up. “What would we do without our Seeker?”

“Survive, somehow,” she says. When she looks at Varric, he has turned away.

When they’ve returned to Skyhold, Cassandra tries to reach out to Varric, but he doesn’t acknowledge her. Instead, he and the Inquisitor walk with Bianca back into the hall, talking quietly under their breaths. She needs to leave, they decide, but in the morning. Bianca seems to agree, but only reluctantly. Bull puts a hand on Cassandra’s shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” she says. “I suppose.”

“Did you sort it out?”

She shakes her head. “Not particularly.”

“Maybe you need a drink.”

“No.” She heads toward the armory to surrender some of her things. Bull sighs.

“Seeker—”

“I think there has been a…misunderstanding. Between Varric and myself.” She turns to Bull. “I do not think we should spend…time together anymore.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” She hangs up her shield. “He seems to think that we are in love.”

Bull grunts. “Then _tell_ him we aren’t.”

“When should I? When he is avoiding me? Or when he is angry with me? He is a _wall._ Impossible to speak to.”

“I understand the feeling.”

“Don’t _compare_ us. I have been trying—”

“You haven’t,” Bull says. “But that doesn’t matter. It’s your decision, Seeker. I only think…” He shakes his head. “Well. Maybe you don’t want to hear it.”

“No,” she says. “I probably don’t.”

“That woman doesn’t matter anymore. Not to him. Not in the way you think she does.”

“I do not care about the other dwarf—”

Bull grabs her hand and wrenches her toward him. “Then what _do_ you care about? Besides this Inquisition? Besides this _war?_ What is left for you to care about if you won’t give your heart to anyone or anything else?”

Cassandra pulls away from him. “I care about _you._ I care about Dorian, if that can be believed. I _care_ about _Varric._ ”

“You _love_ Varric.”

“ _It doesn’t matter!_ ” she shouts. “None of this has mattered. I have been distracted from the task at hand, I have given too much to my own feelings, and let myself be wounded and my guard falter. No more,” she says. “No…no more.” She _breathes_ , and slumps against the wall. “It would do me no good,” she murmurs. “Love…has done me no good.”

“You won’t know,” Bull says, “unless you go to him, and _try._ ”

Cassandra closes her eyes. “And if I am spurned? If he will not listen—”

“You’re a damned Seeker of Truth, Cassandra.” He holds her chin in his fingers. “You _make_ him listen.”

 

* * *

 

Cassandra stands in front of the partially opened doors to the main hall. She has never seen this as the entryway to Varric’s place in the keep, but it feels that way, now.

“Varric,” she tries, and it sounds good on her tongue. “Varric, I love you.”

 _Yes_ , she thinks. That sounds just fine. It sounds right, like the _truth._ Cassandra smiles, puts her hands on the solid wood of the door, and pushes, just enough to slide through and stand in the warmth of the hall so that she might –

_Oh._

_Oh, but of course._

They look… _right_ together. The glow of the fire is beautiful, despite the sudden _ache_ in her chest. Varric’s hand reaches up to cup Bianca’s cheek, and even then, even _there_ , it seems to fit so well.

Cassandra’s fist clenches over her gut, balling up her tunic in her hand.

She is…too late. But of course she is. Bull was right, and she feels hot tears slide down her cheeks, unbidden and unwelcome at the thought – he has been right about this from the very beginning, and Cassandra has _wasted_ her time.

She doesn’t stay to watch. She doesn’t have to. 

When she knocks on Bull’s door, she almost expects Dorian to open it – he often does. But it’s just her Qunari. Just her friend, and the warmth of his room.

“Hello,” she says quietly.

“Seeker—”

“I…would like to stay the night, if I could.”

Bull’s expression softens, and he opens the door to let her through. “Of course, Cassandra. Anything you need.”


End file.
